My grandfather was in an odd mood that night and only stayed for about an hour before leaving to head back to the city. I worried about his strange behavior now that he was getting older. He seemed more worried in general and a bit further removed from my mother. The two of them always seemed thick as thieves, but lately they didn’t seem to spend much time together. For as traditional and intimidating as the man was, I’d always caught glimpses of another side to him. When his sister was still alive, she had the ability to tease him about being such a curmudgeon, and she even had the ability to jolly him into laughter. When the two of them would set each other off with corny jokes, my mother would roll her eyes and mutter the same phrase every time: Melody has a magic way with him.

And she did. She was the key to his heart. Even though she’d been older than Grandfather, Melody had been the darling of the family. It was almost like he treated her the way I sometimes treated Rory—as the baby who deserved every bit of pampering and happiness. What Melody wanted, Grandfather provided. It wasn’t until my adulthood that I realized my mother would have never approved of my summers in Hobie. It had to have been Melody requesting my presence and Grandfather’s complete inability to deny her anything that resulted in the most wonderful memories of my teen years.

When I remembered his tenderness for her, it explained a bit of his disorientation in what had been her home for years. And then I recalled it had also been his own mother’s childhood home. My great-grandmother had grown up in the Hobie farmhouse before meeting and marrying Jeremiah Stiel when he came to Hobie to purchase a plot of land on behalf of the Baptist General Convention for the location of the brand-new Hobie First Baptist church just off the town square.

After Grandfather left, I reminded myself that this farmhouse had been a part of his heritage the same way it had been to his sister. While he wouldn’t have been nearly as sentimental about his mother’s birthplace as Melody had been, he still would have found the property meaningful.

Property was in his blood.

Stiels had been buying and selling property for themselves and others for over a century. Could that have explained his melancholy mood?

It had left me feeling so unsettled that I’d called Rory to tell her about it. We’d talked for an hour about Grandfather’s recent strange behavior, Mother’s shortening temper, and, inevitably, the self-defense lessons I’d let her talk me into. I told her a little bit about my instructor and even the part about me getting one over on him with the bite. After she praised my ingenuity, I had to admit to him getting me back.

By the time we got off the phone, I’d tried to gather up enough courage to sleep in my bed again, but I just couldn’t. My attic nest was so much more comfortable now that I had rigged up some twinkle lights and hung some of my favorite keys among them from the whitewashed boards that comprised the ceiling of the little nook. It made it seem less like a storage cubby and more like a special secret hideaway. In addition to the thick duvet I usually kept on the guest bed, I’d brought up two of Melody’s vintage quilts that were sturdy enough for use and the two squishy bed pillows from the guest room. It almost felt like a little wolf’s den or something. I could understand the concept den animals had of securing such a space.

I knew if anyone ever found this place, however, I would die of embarrassment. I would keel right over in abject horror and never be able to show my face around that person again.

The following morning, I got up early to treat myself to a fancy coffee and pastry at the bakery before opening the shop. Halfway to town, my sister called to tell me she and Kat had gotten up early to drive out to Hobie for a visit. We decided to meet up at Sugar Britches to have breakfast before heading over to the shop. I was thrilled to have the distraction of their visit to help me spend less time obsessing about a certain baby-faced Wilde.

When I entered the bakery, the line was almost out the door. Luckily, I noticed Rory and Katrina at a table in the corner and was able to squeeze past the line to join them.

“We got you a pumpkin-spiced—” Rory began with a straight face.

“Bullshit, give me the mocha,” I interrupted, holding out my hand for the huge ceramic mug. She knew I hated the very idea of pumpkin-spiced anything and craved chocolate as much as coffee.

“Told you he wouldn’t believe you,” Kat murmured before kissing Rory on the ear. “But you were adorable with your pretend serious face. You get an A for effort, cutie pie.”

Rory rolled her eyes and reached out to give me a side hug before handing me the drink.

“They’re bringing out the pastries in a minute. As soon as the guy at the counter saw the last name on my credit card, he kind of squealed and did a little dance. I don’t know what that means, but he told us that made us VIPs. How do people know who we are out here in the sticks?”

I glanced over my shoulder and spotted the hyperactive manager with the hot-pink faux-hawk and pale pink lip gloss talking a customer’s ear off while simultaneously frothing milk and running a credit card through the machine. “Oh, that’s Stevie. He runs the place. I guess he’s a friend?”

There was no telling why I hesitated to call people in Hobie a true friend. Charlie and I had been friendly for at least eight months, and half the time hanging out with Charlie meant hanging out with Hudson. And then there was Jen who owned the children’s boutique next to my shop and always went in with me on a Chinese food takeout order every Friday for lunch.

“Is that a question?” Rory asked.

“Well, we kind of bonded over our mutual hatred of Precious Moments figurines. You’d have to know Stevie to understand why that’s a thing. And then we both discovered we secretly sponsor animals in need from that ridiculous commercial…”

“Shut up,” Kat said.

“No,” Rory gasped. “Augie, you don’t! Tell me you don’t send them money.”

Katrina shot a guilty look at my sister, and Rory gasped again. “You too? Jesus, what a bunch of bleeding hearts.”

“Did someone summon me?” Stevie called as he flitted to the table with a quaint white basket lined with a cotton napkin. He set the basket in the center of the table and then handed me a stack of small plates. “Tra-la! Selection of all the primo shit, my dear. Insider tip: the donut holes have a Bailey’s Irish Cream drizzle on them. If you want a little relaxation on this beautiful fall morning, they’re your best bet.”

Before we could even say thank you, he dashed off with a wave and a “Toodles” called over his shoulder. The three of us watched his pert butt wiggle back behind the counter in a painted-on pair of skinny jeans.

“See something you like?” a deep voice rumbled from behind me. I closed my eyes and inhaled, half hoping I’d imagined the sexy voice and half hoping it was real. Saint’s fresh scent enveloped me, and I opened my eyes again, spinning around to see the gorgeous specimen before me.

I may have whimpered a little bit.

My bratty sister coughed the word “beefcake” before turning on her most giant smile as if it had never happened. “You must be the biter.”

“Oh my fucking god,” I cried. “You did not just say that.”

The rich sound of Saint’s laugh rumbled through me, and his hand landed on my shoulder for a brief squeeze. He leaned in to speak closer to my ear. “It’s not a lie.”

My entire body shuddered, and my cock may have dripped a tiny bit. I tried to take a sip of my mocha but choked on it when Saint straightened back up and told my sister, “Don’t kid yourself. This one’s no kitten either. More like a feral cat.”

Rory’s eyes lit up like a fucking Vegas slot machine hitting the triple diamond. She’d struck brother gossip pay dirt and damned well knew it.

“So, uh. This is Saint. Saint, this is my sister, Rory, and—”

“I recognize the lovely Katrina Duvall. It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Saint said, reaching an arm past me to shake. The bakery was crowded enough to push his body into mine when he reached, and I nudged my nose over to surreptitiously sniff his shirt.

Okay, his pit.

It smelled amazing.

I gulped. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Oh god.

Rory lifted a brow at me like, Really, you stupid motherfucker. That all you got?

Kat narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at me like, Did you just sniff the man’s armpit?

“I, uh…” Was it high-pitched in here, or was that just me? “I should get to work? At the shop?”

Rory shot Kat a look. “This is really happening. Kat, get out your phone and start getting this on video.”

I shook my head as fast as I could. “Don’t be ridonkulous. It’s just a…”

Oh god. I didn’t just say ridonkulous.

Rory nodded her head enthusiastically. Oh yes you did. You sooo did.

Fuck.

I glanced at Kat in desperation, but she was busy fumbling her phone out of her bag.

“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I have a shopment coming. Shop ment. Ship mont. Ship… mint.”

I shook my head and scraped my chair back, accidentally knocking it right into Saint’s gut. His grunt of pain shocked some sense into me.

“Oh god! Saint, no. Oh no. Saint. I’m so sorry. I’m Saint sorry. Saint… so…” I looked at him in mortified horror, expecting to see either annoyance at me impaling him with the back of my chair or laughter at what a fool I was making of myself. What I saw wasn’t either one of those.

He was worried about me. The concern in his face was genuine and hit me right in the solar plexus, taking my breath away with a sudden whoosh. Saint gave Rory and Kat a quick, polite goodbye before wrapping his big arm around me, tucking me into his side, and dragging me through the crowd and out the door.

Once we’d crossed the street onto the quieter space of the grassy square park, Saint quickly found us a bench to sit on.

“Take a breath, sweet… ah… of some sweet air. Some fresh air. Some sweet, fresh air,” he said. His arm was still around me, and I found myself leaning into his solid warmth.

“It’s contagious,” I said with a soft chuckle after a moment.

“What is?”

“The stupid mouth. You caught it from me. Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have a stupid mouth,” he said. “I happen to know from experience you have a sweet mouth. A soft mouth, a sensual—”

A sound in my throat interrupted him. Our faces were only inches apart, and I thought I heard myself whisper the word please under my breath against my better judgment.

“Augie,” he breathed.

“Augie!” someone else called from across the square. We both snapped our heads around and jumped apart like guilty teens dancing too closely at a school social.

It was a regular customer of mine who was most likely itching to pick up the Rococo chaise lounge I’d arranged for him to have reupholstered.

“Is it ready?” Mr. Webster asked as he shuffled closer down the paved walkway. “I couldn’t wait any longer to see how it turned out. I was just heading to the shop to check on it when I saw you there.”

Saint stood from the bench and reached out a hand. “Mr. Webster, it’s good to see you again. How is Gunnar?”

I gawped at the big muscly man asking the frail retired school teacher about his beloved Yorkie.

“Oh, Saint. I didn’t realize that was you. Yes, Gunnar is fine. In fact, I’ve just left him at the groomers and ran into your grandfathers there. They were dropping off one of the little dogs. I’m not sure which one. Can never tell them apart. Salty, I think. Anyway, Augie? The chaise?”

I glanced at Saint with an apology. “Yes, sir. It’s ready. Let’s go see how it looks.”

When I got to the far end of the square, I turned back for one last glance at Saint. He’d sat back down on the bench with one leg crossed over the other and had a bakery treat in his hands and a big smile on his face.

That was when I saw my sister and Kat, all grins, sitting down next to him on the bench.

He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked up suddenly and met my gaze. Then that sexy man smiled at me as if the entire sun had just broken over the horizon.

And damned if I hadn’t been in the dark for a very long time.